On a Scale
by denise1
Summary: SG-1 is having a bad day


       On a Scale...

By

    Denise

            Great, here we go again.  Ya know we REALLY spend too much time in cells.  It's starting to become a running joke.  Daniel's even come up with a grading system, 1-10. Original huh? One is the really nasty, dirty kind where they...well let's just say their milk of human kindness is pretty sour.  Thank God those are few and far between.  A 10, well those are the 'here's a nice room, won't you just wait  until we come and get you, there's refreshments on the table, ring if you need something,' kind of cells.  OK, ignore the fact we're being held against our will, 10's really aren't that bad.  That is unless they begin to degrade.  I hate it when that happens.  This time we're in one of our own.  We returned through the gate to find ourselves in the middle of an alien virus...pod people...hell I have absolutely no idea what's going on.  All I know is that for some reason our own people have turned against us.  We'll figure out the how later, right now we need to get loose.   Fortunately all they seem  inclined to do is toss us in a cell.  They just had to pick THIS one. 

            As they led us to level 16, I really wasn't worried.  All our detention cells are here.  No big deal.  So is one of the escape tunnels to the surface. Still haven't figured that one out yet.  But then they stopped in front of THIS door.  I see Sam pale as we get closer.  She doesn't say a word.  She won't, but I know her too well.  Outside she's relatively calm, but inside she's screaming.

             Like I said getting thrown in a cell is no big deal to us, but just a few weeks ago Sam DIED in this one.  Some jerk off alien tortured her here and left her for dead.  I bite my tongue to keep myself from protesting.  Prisoner 101, never let them know something bugs you.  All it does is give them a weapon to use against you.

            We file into the cell, giving our captors a few dirty looks but not really resisting.  Better to save our strength for when we'll really need it. Also they're armed, we're not.  It's kinda hard to escape when you're dead or bleeding from various appendages.  Four people in this cell is really a bit crowded.  Teal'c, Daniel and I just stand around.  Sam makes a beeline for the bunk and sits down, her back against the wall, mimicking her posture from the last time she was in here.  Except this time, she draws up her knees, like I've seen her do when she's thinking, or worried about something.  It's one of those unconscious gestures like Daniel's fiddling with his hands and that eyebrow of Teal'c's.  You know the one that tends to crawl up his head and tries to give his tattoo a beard whenever he's puzzled or amused.   I meet Teal'c's gaze.  He knows the significance of this room.  We silently agree to give her some space.  Daniel starts to babble, trying to figure out just what is going on, theories about viruses, radiation, and mind control spilling from his mouth.  For a few minutes he's oblivious to Sam's silence.  I try to talk it out with him.  But theoretical discussions just aren't my thing. Finally he notices he's basically talking to himself and asks Sam's advice.  When she doesn't respond he turns around.  She's got her arms wrapped around her legs, her eyes closed, her breathing the deep, measured kind people use when they're trying not to scream hysterically.  Then it hits him.  Daniel turns back to me, a wide-eyed, regretful, shocked look on his face.  Now he realizes the significance of this cell.  He goes to sit beside her, ready to offer his support.

            "Sam..."  she silently holds up her hand, signaling empathy is the last thing she needs right now.  He gets the message and backs off.  That's my captain.  She'll scream later.  Maybe we'll all get good and drunk and scream together.  Daniel gets up and re-joins me and Teal'c by the bars.  There's anger in his eyes now.  These people have just unwittingly committed a cruelty Danny boy can't forgive.

            "OK Danny boy, it's your turn."

            "Huh?"

            "I got us out last time.  It's your turn." Daniel shakes his head.

            "No...Teal'c got us out. Remember, he clubbed the guard over the head. It's your turn."

            "No, no, no.  I know it's your turn." I insist as I press my finger gently in his chest.

            "Is not."

            "Is."

            "Not."

            "Is."

            "NOT!"

            "IS!"

            "You're the freaking strategist...YOU come up with something." He shoves his finger in my chest, not so gently.

            "There IS no strategy in breaking out.  Come on, Mr. triple Ph.D., do some of that brainstorming stuff."  Daniel thinks for a minute then shrugs.

            "OK...uuh...C-4 would be nice."  I make a show of checking my pockets. 

            "In my other pants.  Gimme another idea."

            "My staff weapon would make short work of these bars O'Neill." Daniel looks at me.

            "Don't even go there."

            "What?" I ask innocently.

            "Jack, I know how your mind works.  Do not go there."

            "How can we go anywhere if we are imprisoned in here?" Danny and I look at each other.

            "He'll explain it later." we chorus, pointing at each other. "Sulfuric acid...eat right through the bars." I suggest.

            "I'm an archaeologist, not a chemist Jack. How about one of those Tollan 'walk through the walls' devices?"

            "Sure, I'll conjure one up out of bed springs and  blanket lint."  Daniel gets an excited look on his face and begins to dig in his pockets.

            "Wa...wa...wait."  he stammers as he drags out his hand clutching two gum wrappers, a wad of Kleenex, a squishy candy bar and a tiny pen knife.  He holds it out to me triumphantly. "Here, now we have a knife."  I take it dubiously. I look at the...well calling it a knife is a compliment.  The toe nail clippers I have at home are bigger.

            "Danny, where did you get this...outta a gumball machine? You know that phrase that size doesn't matter.  It's wrong."

            "Jack." he said exasperatedly, "maybe we can use it to...pick the lock, unscrew the bolts from the walls, jimmy the hinges...I don't know."

            "Picking the lock would not be wise Daniel Jackson.  The locks are electronically re-inforced.  You would most likely electrocute yourself." Daniel frowns.

            "OK, that would be bad. Aah...we could use a rock hammer...dig our way out." I remember the movie he's talking about.

            "Danny, it took him TWENTY YEARS.  Besides we're exactly one rock hammer short of actually having one."  We keep going on, each idea getting more and more outrageous.  I mean all we have is a handful of pocket change, my credit cards, Teal'c's good luck charm, my and Carter's dog-tags, and let's not forget Danny's candy bar, Kleenex and gum wrappers.  Not exactly an arsenal. I'm creative but I'm no MacGyver.  Give me something to work with for crying out loud.

             Unfortunately we all know this cell is pretty secure.  I mean we built it. We being the US Government.  This isn't some back water planet with old mortar and rusted bars.  It's titanium and steel, imbedded in solid concrete and buried a few hundred feet UNDER a mountain.  This place was designed to withstand a nuclear missile for crying out loud.  Just as I'm starting to think our options are down to the old 'overpower the guards' routine Sam speaks up.

            "Did...aah...did they ever fix the lock?"  I look at her.  Her eyes are still closed, I guess she's trying to pretend she's not where she is.

            "Huh?"  She opens her eyes and looks at me.

            "When...aah..." she stops and swallows, shoving her emotions somewhere deep inside. "he didn't use the keys, he forced the door open.  The lock broke.  Did they ever fix it?"  I remember now.  When Teal'c and I came in here and found her, the door to the cell was open. I always assumed the Ash'rak used the guards' keys.  Course they were dead, so was Ash'rak and Sam. Afterwards, well I was far more concerned about her retaining her sanity than pressing her for details about her death.  I look at Teal'c, silently suggesting he try the lock.  His superior strength is really handy to have around. He cocks his eyebrow and firmly grabs the bars.  One firm pull and the door swings open.  We all look at each other, not quite believing our eyes.  Son of a bitch, they locked us away behind a broken door.  SG-1 luck in action.  I walk over to Sam and offer her my hand to pull her up off the bunk.

            "OK smartass," I say affectionately " any idea how to get our people under control." She shoots me a look that says, 'what? do I have to think of everything?'.

            "Hathor." she states. OK I'm lost again. She sees the customary blank look on my face and gives me a shaky little grin.

            "Tranquilizer darts." Aa hah. Now I get it. 

            "Sweet. Let's go hunting kids."

fin


End file.
